


An Audience With The King

by elisabethjj



Series: The King's Omega [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Harem, But this is absolutely a Stucky fic, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other, Pregnancy, Steve has other relationships because he has a harem, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 03:18:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18886093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisabethjj/pseuds/elisabethjj
Summary: ‘Try not to be anxious,’ Peggy says. Her calm gaze is actually pretty reassuring. She gestures again for James to follow her, and this time he moves his butt. ‘Steve is a good alpha, and a good king. All will be well, you’ll see.’James has only been at the palace for four months, and it hasn’t escaped his notice how efficiently Peggy manages the sizeable harem. As befits the King’s status, the royal harem boasts an impressive fifty-eight omegas. Not that the King sleeps with them all. He’d never get any governing done.





	An Audience With The King

**Author's Note:**

> A trashtastic ABO bodice-ripper: Marvel meets Arabian Nights meets The Tudors. Don't @ me.

‘James,’ Peggy says, shaking him from his reverie. He’s not been dozing, exactly, but lying cat-like in a patch of sunlight, just letting his thoughts drift by, hazy and warm. ‘I need you to come with me, honey. The King wants to see you tonight.’

James shifts on the ridiculously comfortable and oversized chaise lounge, levering himself into a sitting position. Peggy’s expression, as always, is pleasant and courteous. 

He doesn’t know her very well. She’s incredibly beautiful—naturally, the chief concubine of the royal harem would be. James has only been here four months, and it hasn’t escaped his notice how efficiently Peggy manages the sizeable harem. As befits the Alpha King’s status, the royal harem boasts an impressive fifty-eight omegas. Not that the King fucks them all. He’d never get any governing done. Although the King enjoys the attentions of omegas in the main harem when the fancy strikes him, his favorites live in a separate section of the harem buildings reserved for the _jawahir almalik_.

As far as James has observed it, the _jawahir_ fall into three categories: those the King currently prefers to share his bed with on a regular basis, lovers who made a deep enough impression to retain his affection even though he may not visit their beds so frequently anymore and, of course, omegas who have borne his royal children.

For the past months—ever since his parents sent him to the palace—James has been living contentedly enough in the main harem. Even within that, there’s a clear hierarchy, but James’s bloodline ensures he’s housed with other concubines from noble houses and treated accordingly. Even as a newcomer, he pulls a higher rank than omegas from common families or those gifted to the King simply because of their beauty. 

James has been summoned to the King only once before, soon after he arrived at the palace, on an occasion where it pleased the King to be indulged by several beautiful but unfamiliar lovers at once. 

Harem life has been an adjustment, to be sure, but he can’t exactly complain about the opulent residence, spectacular palace grounds or being waited on by harem attendants day and night. There’s a certain loss of freedom to get used to, but it honestly doesn’t grate too hard. There’s not a lot that James couldn’t get permission to do if he really wanted, albeit always in the presence of a chaperone and palace security. In reality, the main constraint is sexual servitude. Like all the other royal concubines, the only alpha lover he is allowed to have, until death or release from the harem, is the King or one expressly approved by the King. The punishment for disobedience on that front is severe. James knows it’s happened occasionally in the past, human nature being what it is and the royal harem being the size is it, but it’s certainly not a pleasant thing to think about. 

The rules are strict, but they aren’t complicated. The servants are friendly and, between their assistance and sharing in activities with the other omegas, it’s not a hardship to focus his attention on staying prepared in case the King chooses to call on him. It’s not just about his looks. The whole harem is expected to be adept at entertaining the King and his learned friends, through more than just sex. Still, the looks are important. James works out a lot, and he knows his body is lean, compactly muscular and lithe—an attractive male omega form to most alphas. All the concubines bathe daily, or more often, and use any number of sweet-smelling oils and lotions. His hair is soft and always artfully styled, curling round the base of his neck or plaited back off his face, depending on his mood. James has a flair for plaits, it turns out, and passes many an evening creating elaborate braids for his fellow omegas. His body hair is completely removed, which is a bit of a pain in the ass to maintain, but as a male omega he doesn’t have that much of it to start off with, so it could be worse. 

Basically, he’s always pretty fuckable. And the King wants to see him tonight. 

James is nervous for entirely different reasons than the first time the King called him to his private rooms. He knows this is a good thing, probably, but he’s navigating unknown territory and he doesn’t know quite what happens next. 

‘Try not to be anxious,’ Peggy says. Her calm gaze is actually pretty reassuring. She gestures again for him to follow her, and this time James moves his butt. ‘He’s a good alpha, and a good king. All will be well, you’ll see.’ She pauses as they get to the main corridor dividing the sleeping wing from the social rooms. ‘Do you want to change your clothes before you see him?’

James does, in fact, want to change his clothes, so they make a detour to his bed chamber where he checks his hair, reapplies some barely-there eyeliner and pulls one of his nicest outfits from the wardrobe. The long-sleeved silky tunic is the right kind of dark blue to bring out the storminess of his eyes, and the trousers are soft, clinging over his ass attractively.

Peggy gives a nod of approval, then leads him at a brisk pace out of the main harem buildings, across the gardens, through a number of corridors and up a very grand, very heavily guarded staircase that James knows leads to the King’s private rooms. As chief concubine, Peggy’s status is sufficiently high and her face sufficiently well-known in the palace that no-one questions her as she sweeps up the steps with James close on her heels. They bypass the King’s huge private lounge that James recognises from his last visit, and Peggy shows him through a further set of rooms that he hasn’t seen before. At an ornately decorated set of double doors, there are two guards. Betas, James can scent, as most security personnel tend to be. At Peggy’s encouragement, they open the doors and James is very suddenly in the King’s bedroom.

It’s a spacious, L-shaped room, tastefully furnished in dark wood and expensive-looking textiles in warm reds and browns. The humongous bed dominates the far end of the space, possessing four sturdy looking posts but no canopy. On the nearside of that, doors open onto what seems, through the sheer, gauzy fabric screening the doorway, to be a large balcony or roof garden. 

‘Your Majesty,’ Peggy calls out. ‘I’ve brought James.’ 

The material is pushed aside and the King appears from the outside area, a pleased smile curving his lips.

‘Perfect timing,’ he declares, in that slightly-deeper-than-expected voice that does funny things to James’ insides. Honestly, everything about the King does funny things to James’ insides. He’s tall, broad in the shoulders and—James can say, having been intimately familiar with the alpha’s body—sculpted out of hard muscle and golden skin. On top of that, he’s strikingly handsome. Quick with a smile. Bright-eyed. Don’t even get James started on his scent. ‘Thanks Pegs.’ The King leans forward to kiss Peggy’s cheek, and she shoots him a relaxed smile. ‘You’re an angel. Don’t know what I’d do without you.’

Peggy snorts, throws one more comforting glance in James’s direction, then makes to leave the room. 

‘Play nicely, boys,’ is her parting shot, before the doors close behind her. 

James is torn between shock at the casual-verging-on-disrespectful way Peggy just spoke to the King, and nerves at being alone with him in his bedroom. 

The King is dressed simply, in dark trousers and a white shirt that highlights the impressive breadth of his shoulders. His feet are bare. He’s a large man, but James knows that it’s more than his physical presence that means he seems to fill every space he occupies. The King is a powerful alpha. He practically radiates dominant pheromones, and that’s when he’s completely at ease. 

Like he is right now, staring at the anxious omega in his bedroom.

‘James, please have a seat,’ the King says, gesturing to the cluster of plush, cushion-covered chairs occupying the space to the left of the balcony doors. 

James sits. He chooses the end of a sofa with cushions so deep he could lie down on them. The King looms over him for a moment, before settling next to him. Close, but not uncomfortably so. James wonders at his nerves now—it’s not like they haven’t been closer. That’s what caused this situation he now finds himself in. 

‘Peggy tells me you’re pregnant,’ the King says, fixing eyes the color of the summer sea on James.

James gathers his confidence. He isn’t some common no-name omega, gifted to the King as a plaything. He’s a son of House Barnes. 

‘Yes, your Majesty.’ He hesitates before adding, ‘The _tabib_ says I’m ten weeks along.’

The King smiles broadly, and James can’t see anything but genuine pleasure on his face. It relaxes something inside him. Of course he knew that the King was said to treasure each of his children, but James is so new to the royal harem. He may be the son of a noble house, but he isn’t one of the _jawahir_. He had wondered how the King would take this news. He’d been—well, honestly, part of him had worried what might happen to him, to his unborn child, if the King were unhappy about it. 

‘This is a blessing,’ the King says. ‘I am very pleased.’ He reaches a hand out to caress the side of James’s face, then leans forward. James feels the King’s lips, soft and dry, press a gentle kiss to his forehead. It makes him shiver. So close, the King’s scent is even more intoxicating—a fresh, spicy, alpha scent. James’s breath catches. 

‘Does the child make you unwell?’

‘I am well, your Majesty,’ James manages to say. It’s true. He’s had a few dizzy spells, felt nauseous upon waking in the mornings, but that’s been the worst of it. He understands that makes him very lucky. It’s just that discovering he had fallen pregnant has been a bit overwhelming. He knows it will change everything for him, but he doesn’t exactly know how, and the uncertainty is eating away at him. 

‘And you are happy?’ 

James is determined that the King shouldn’t have any reason to take against him. 

‘I am honored to carry Your Majesty’s child,’ he says, falling back on language ingrained in him, as Lord and Lady Barnes’s son, to flatter and beguile. ‘It brings me deep joy, and my only wish is to deliver Your Majesty a healthy, strong son or daughter.’ 

When there’s no response, James risks a glance up at the alpha. 

The King looks thoughtful, but not aggravated.

‘You’ve been at the palace for, what, a few months?’ 

James nods. ‘A little more than four months, Your Majesty.’

‘This has happened quickly and,’ the King gives a small chuckle, ‘somewhat unexpectedly.’ 

That, James thought, was an understatement. 

‘You don’t know me,’ the King continues, ‘and you don’t know what to expect from me, but I want to put your mind at ease. The last thing I want is for you to be worrying about your place here, James, instead of enjoying your pregnancy. This should be a happy time for you.’ The King steeples his fingers and leans his elbows on his knees. ‘So, let’s get a few things cleared up.’

James nods, slow and unsure. 

‘Yes, Your Majesty.’

‘Firstly, when it’s just the two of us, you may call me by my given name. Steve.’ 

‘I—’ James swallows, hard. He wasn’t expecting that, and isn’t sure he’s comfortable with it, but if it is the King’s desire he will comply. ‘Yes,’ he says. He tries it out, voice deliberately soft. ‘Steve.’

The King—Steve—smiles. 

‘You’re having my baby,’ he says. ‘I think first name basis is appropriate, when we’re in private and can dispense with the formalities.’ James smiles, and watches Steve’s gaze drop to his mouth briefly, before meeting his eyes again. 

‘You will live with the rest of the _jawahir almalik_ ,’ Steve continues, ‘in the private apartments. Peggy will get you situated. You’ll be well looked after there.’

James resists the urge to sigh with relief. He had hoped—but he hadn’t wanted to assume. He hadn’t known if he would need to deliver the child before being welcomed into the _jawahir_ , but this was the best outcome he could have hoped for. James’s place in the harem will be elevated. His baby will be accepted, protected, have all the privileges of growing up with the other royal children. They will be second in status only to the children of whichever omega prince or princess the King eventually chooses to bond and make his Consort. 

His hand drops, unbidden, to press against his stomach, cradling the place where the baby is growing inside him. 

‘Thank you, Steve.’

The King’s blue eyes sparkle with warmth. 

‘It’s me who should be thanking you, James,’ he says. ‘I meant it when I said this child is a blessing. I love all my children. You’ll see for yourself that their omega parents want for nothing. You will want for nothing.’

It’s an appealing future, James can’t deny it. As an omega from a titled family, he had always thought his parents would arrange a bond for him with an alpha of pedigree. To be unbonded and pregnant, generally, would be reputational death for an omega of noble blood. Yet, being a royal concubine placed an omega uniquely outside of the usual rules of etiquette. 

When Lady Romanova, the King’s procurer, had approached James’s parents about sending their eldest child to the royal harem, it had been an honor they couldn’t refuse. It had also been a sacrifice. Most royal concubines would never bear children. Never bond. Never provide grandchildren for their own parents. 

Unless specifically instructed by His Majesty, Peggy would never send a harem omega to the King when that omega was in or nearing their heat. James was only pregnant now because his heats had been irregular since puberty, and as often as not they hit him with no warning. He’d never had strong pre-heat symptoms. After so little time at the palace, the _tabib_ tracking his fertility hadn’t had a chance to get to grips with James’s cycle, much less establish that James was in pre-heat when the King sent for him.

He’d conceived the King’s child unplanned in, more-or-less, an orgy. James winces, thinking of the indelicacy of it. 

‘You’re still worrying,’ Steve observes. His fingers brush a strand of James’s hair back behind his ear in a soothing gesture. ‘Tell me what is on your mind.’

James can’t help the flush that warms his cheeks. 

‘Ah,’ he prevaricates, before steeling himself to comply with the direct order from his king. ‘I was just thinking how grateful I am for your kindness,’ he says. ‘Especially since…’

Steve waits, then gestures with his hand for James to continue. ‘Especially since?’ 

‘Since… I mean, well. I have hardly had a chance to make a good impression on you, as I would have hoped to do with time, Your Majesty. Steve.’

Steve inclines his head. ‘You’re referring to the fact I haven’t had you in my bed on a private basis.’

‘I…Yes.’

‘James,’ Steve’s smile makes James feel owned, like he’s held captive by the alpha’s close attention. ‘You must know I sent for you after that night.’ 

James allows his lashes to flutter, giving himself a reprieve from Steve’s intense gaze.

‘I—No, I didn’t know that.’

‘Not two nights later, but I was told you were… indisposed.’ 

In heat, he meant. 

Although many alphas saw bedding an omega in heat as a desirable experience, it was, for sure, not a pursuit to be undertaken lightly. Unlike Joe Alpha on the street, the King no doubt had many chances to enjoy an omega in heat and wouldn’t have been particularly tempted. It was an intimate act to engage in—the emotional connection forged went beyond the standard boundaries of physical closeness. Or so Bucky had heard. Naturally, he’d never spent a heat with an alpha. Now, as a royal concubine, he might never do so. 

‘Yes,’ James whispers, face flushing. His heat had in fact found him the very next morning after his night with the King, not long after he’d left his presence. 

‘Then, after my annual tour to Stark Towers, I returned to the palace and asked for you once again. I was told the _tabib_ had suggested you not be inconvenienced for a number of weeks,’ Steve says. He chuckled. ‘Now, King I may be, but when Peggy tells me to leave one of my concubines in peace, I do as she commands.’

James can’t keep the shock off his face, and Steve laughs.

‘I’ve surprised you,’ he says. ‘I’m not some kind of monster, James. Peggy’s role is to ensure your wellbeing. I’m self-aware enough to realise that, as an alpha, there’s plenty I don’t understand about omegas. That’s why Peggy oversees the harem, and I respect her opinion in all matters.’

It all makes sense, James realises. When he’d gone into heat straight after his night with the King, Peggy must have had the _tabib_ keep an eye on James, to look out for any signs that James was with child. She’d ensured he wasn’t called on by the King since that night to safeguard James—to safeguard the King’s baby—in those first, most dangerous weeks of pregnancy. 

‘Oh,’ James says, softly.

‘I’m thrilled to discover the reason for my being denied is that I have already put a child in you.’ Steve’s gaze flickers across James’s face. ‘Look at you. You’re stunning. Our child will be a beauty.’ 

‘Certainly,’ James says, biting his lip against a smile, ‘if they take after their alpha father.’ 

The king grins, and it’s almost blinding, like looking up at the sun on a cloudless day.

‘You find my looks pleasing, James?’ Steve’s voice is a deep, pleased rumble, matching the happy alpha pheromones that James is close enough to scent. He tries not to be too obvious as he breathes Steve’s fragrance in, before arching a brow.

‘I hardly think you need my validation on that front, Your Majesty.’ James uses the title playfully, and notices how Steve’s eyes drop momentarily to his mouth. ‘But, if you must have it,’ he teases, ‘then yes. Your looks please me. I doubt there is an omega breathing who you would displease, even if you were not the King. However, since you are the King, I suppose you’ll never know if I’m telling you the truth, or just sucking up.'

Steve freezes for a split second—long enough for James to experience a brief pang of worry that he’s gone too far, that his pert tongue has got him into trouble as his mother had often warned. Then, Steve laughs: a hearty, genuine sound of amusement. 

‘I suppose then,’ he says, merriment dancing in his eyes, ‘that I will have to rely on other observations to divine your true feelings.’ 

James takes a deep breath. He’s inexperienced, but not naïve. He knows he likes this feeling, of courting the King’s undivided attention, and he knows the likely outcome of that.

Sure enough, the alpha leans in and closes the distance between them, pressing warm, full lips to James’s own. For a moment, James is still, as he adjusts to the pleasant sensation and tries to work out what to do next. Then, instinct kicks in, and his lips part on a sigh. Steve makes an approving sound in response and his tongue brushes lightly against James’s. It sets every nerve in James’s body tingling. He surrenders to Steve’s patient exploration of his mouth, chasing him when the alpha finally pulls back. 

‘Hmmm,’ he smiles, resting his forehead against James’s. ‘I think I do please you. I think you like it when I kiss you, sweetheart.’ 

James bites down on a whine before it can escape.

‘I’d like to do more than kiss you,’ Steve confesses, breath warm against James’s skin. ‘I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the night I first touched you. You outshone every other omega in the room. No wonder I got you pregnant, when I couldn’t resist coming inside your gorgeous body, what? Three times, was it?’

James laughs, a little shakily. ‘Three times,’ he agrees, ‘but it was a long night.’ 

Steve gives him another of those warm smiles, that seem to emanate from somewhere deep in his soul and provoke an extreme reaction in James’s nervous system. 

‘Can I have you again? Now?’ 

It’s funny that he asks. James is his concubine—serving the King’s sexual appetite is literally his role in life. Yes, the King is subject to the law, and the law demands consent but, really? Nobody would ever challenge the King for taking one of his concubines to bed. Plenty of alphas, far less powerful than the King, make free to do as they like with omega’s bodies. 

James doesn’t think that Steve is like that, though. The harem is a hotbed of gossip, and he’d have heard if the King was rough, unpleasant or abusive. During the one night he’d already spent with Steve, the alpha had done nothing but bring James pleasure. He’d never imagined losing his virginity in bed with an alpha King and two other omegas, but what the moment had lacked in romance it at least made up with being full of laughter, good wine and orgasms. Steve clearly enjoys a lot of sex, but at least he treats his concubines with respect.

‘Yes,’ James says, pressing a quick kiss to Steve’s mouth. ‘Yes, please.’


End file.
